


Phenom

by Frogdays



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Sports, Gen, Pokemon Battles, Worldbuilding, college here means high school btw, lots of made-up last names, sword and shield - the world with no building! do it yourself!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:49:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29913036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frogdays/pseuds/Frogdays
Summary: Wake up, school, battle, battle, battle, sleep. It's been Marnie's routine as long as she can remember. She's seen herself in local papers, scouting websites, and national news clips. They use fancy terms - internal clock, field presence, reaction speed. They call her a prospect, a star.A phenom.
Kudos: 1





	Phenom

**Author's Note:**

> So this is going to be a weird mix of a high school AU and a sports AU. I'm really into college sports, which is where I pulled most of my inspiration from. I know it's not very "British" of me, but I hope you enjoy this version of Galar I've put together.

Marnie preferred nighttime matches.

Under stadium lights, the world shrank to the size of a battlefield. Heavy shadows contrasted shimmering highlights, scenery obscured in the distance. Marnie could see the glistening of her opponent’s uniform as he reached out his hand for the customary pre-game routine.

“Charlie Fletcher, number 254. East Hulbury.”

Dark blue on teal, shiny fabric. The beautiful port’s ocean backdrop came to mind, such a far cry from the dreary terraced houses she called home. 

Marnie held a breath. Her uniform didn’t shine. The letters were iron-on, bought from the t-shirt shop down the street. The shorts were borrowed from a classmate. The pink design was splatter-painted on by her friends. 

Home it was.

“Marnie Douglas,” she returned the handshake, keeping her voice steady as she could. “Number 960. Spikemuth.” 

The crowd roared.

_Spikemuth! Spikemuth!_

Marnie usually didn’t allow herself a look, it was too distracting, but she gave into the temptation just this once. She even waved. This was the prep school finals, and she had no plans to let anyone down. Not her brother, not herself, not her city. 

She grabbed a Pokeball in both hands, raising her arms over her head and breathing in, letting the oxygen run through her body. Centering herself. The trademarked windup.

(Well, it wasn’t really hers. She stole it from a baseball player she saw on TV once. As long as no one knows, right?) 

Her arms stayed raised just a little bit longer than usual. Scouts, cameras, Marnie found them all overwhelming. But there they were. Why not put on a show, then?

“Morpeko, you’re up!” 

The small Pokemon stared down its opponent: a hulking Golisopod. Marnie thought she heard Charlie snicker. There was a lag time of a few seconds between throwing the Pokeball and giving a command, but those seconds always felt like hours. 

Good time for thinking. Golisopod was weak to Morpeko’s attacks, but First Impression could easily knock out Morpeko in one hit. And it always--

“First Impression!”

\--moved first!

“Morpeko, Protect!” 

The shield went up in time, just as practiced night after night. Marnie retracted her arm, stretched out to emphasize the command, and began closing her fingers one by one.

_Five… four… three…_

Two seconds off. Morpeko had already transformed to Hangry Mode. 

Hey, she was close. The thirty-second timer restarted in her head. Aura Wheel was a Dark-type move now, so it wouldn’t do much against Goliospod. Of course, there was a plan B. 

“Use Spark!” 

Morpeko glowed brightly, charging into his foe, too quick for it to react. It staggered backwards, taking substantial damage. Spark wasn’t powerful, no, but that paralysis chance…

Failed. And still 15 seconds. Plan C. 

“Liquidation!” Charlie shouted.

This was a dice roll. Morpeko had to get lucky. When Liquidation connected, the smaller Pokemon _flew_ back, almost far enough to hit Marnie. He faceplanted, motionless.

“Morpeko, get up!” 

“Pek…” 

Golisopod was advancing. 

“Parting shot!” 

Morpeko pushed himself up, and Marnie let go of a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. The electric-type sprung into action, using the move successfully then retreating into his Pokeball. Marnie put it away, grabbed another, and lifted her arms once again. She thought of the baseball player. A star. A champion. Known the world over. 

She thought back to herself.

“Toxicroak, let’s go!” 

The battle didn’t last much longer. The game clock still had 17 of 30 minutes remaining by the time Marnie had her opponent on the ropes. He was down to his last Pokemon, and Marnie still had three standing. Total rout. 

“Scrafty, Thunder Punch!” 

Scyther fell to the ground, the scene set by a deafening, roaring crowd. 

The scouts couldn’t rush to the battlefield quickly enough. Literally, they couldn’t-- Marnie was mobbed by friends and fans alike within seconds. Of course, one person made sure he got the first hug.

“You did it, kid,” Piers said. 

Marnie wrapped her arms tight around her brother. 

  
  


\-----------------------------

**Douglas Takes Gold**

_Spikemuth Prep star defeats East Hulbury at Galar Preparatory School Division II finals for championship._

It took quite a bit of eye rubbing for Marnie to fully comprehend her name and face on the news. Sure, it wasn’t the first time, but it never truly sunk in. That smiling girl holding a comically large trophy, that was _her_. Such a nice photo, too. Maybe she’d hang it on--

Phone call. She knew that area code, too. Wyndon. 

“Hi, Marnie Douglas?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“My name is John Wainwright. I’m a scout for Wyndon College’s battling team.” 

Marnie certainly would have a lot to talk about at breakfast today. These kinds of calls weren’t unusual, but _Wyndon College!_ That place had graduated over 10 Gym Leaders, 7 of them to the Major Circuit. Not to mention Champion Leon himself. That aside, it also stood atop most lists for academics… as well as tuition.

Mr. Wainwright didn’t mince words. Full-ride scholarship with room and board, starter spot on the team, access to all of the first-rate facilities a secondary school could offer. 

“It won’t be easy, though. We keep our athletes in peak shape--” 

This was a familiar speech. Wyndon didn’t seem much different from the other top-line schools: two practices a day, grade requirements, the usual.

“What’s your height and weight?”

Huh? “145 centimetres,” she rounded up, “and... 40 kilograms?” 

“You’re rather small, Ms. Douglas.” He sounded disappointed. “This level of battling is very intense. Attacks fly far and hard. I’m sure you’ve seen it.”

She had. In a particularly gruesome televised match, a trainer took a misfire Stone Edge to the arm. He reportedly needed over ten stitches. “Yes, I understan’ the dangers an’ all that. I know what ‘m gettin’ into.”

Piers shrunk in his chair when Marnie relayed that part of the conversation to him. They both knew why she was still so short at 14. 

  
\-----------------------------  
  


Marnie spent her night looking up Wyndon College. It didn’t feel like a real place, it looked more like something from a fantasy movie. Huge brick buildings, elegant spires, beautiful stained glass, and those _uniforms_ . Piers would take _way_ too many photos. Even the battling kits were nicer than anything she ever owned, including her faux-leather jacket. Green -- _Wyndon_ green -- with a white collar, and pristine white shorts underneath. The striped knee socks were an unnecessary, but fashionable touch. 

Number 960 would certainly look good on there. It looked good on black and pink, too, but Marnie could concede that for now. 

“They got a whole _trainin’ ground_ , just for the battlers!” she told Piers as he tucked her in. “An’ a 3,000-seat auditorium. Pretty cool, huh?”

Piers laughed. “Yeah, well, I don’t think they’d want my kinda music there. And anyway, ya haven’t even made it official yet.” 

“I know, I know,” Marnie snuggled into her bedsheets beside a sleeping Morpeko. “It’s jus’ excitin’ is all. It looks… like a dream, y’know? It’s so…” 

Not like _here_. Neither of them wanted to say it, but it was running through both of their minds. Most of the scenery afforded to residents of Spikemuth consisted of shuttered stores and abandoned mills, with maybe a church or two to break the monotony. 

“It won’t be easy, Marn,” Piers reminded. “Those academic standards ain’t a joke. An’ I don’t want ya gettin’ hurt.”

“I can handle it.” 

Piers raised an eyebrow. “Not to be rude, but yer grades aren’t anythin’ special. You’ll have to work twice as hard as the others. You understand that, right?” 

Marnie crossed her arms at that. 

“At Wyndon you’ll be under more pressure ‘n ever. There’s a reason I never went to any of those academies. I’m right ‘bout ready to hand the Gym over to ya, too.” 

“I don’ _want_ to run the gym!” Marnie sat up, startling Morpeko. “I’m gonna prove myself in the Galar League one day. Spikemuth _will_ have a champion.” 

Piers sighed. 

“I’ll get ya a real Gym one day, Piers. I promise. Not the back court. A real stage to perform on.” 

A kiss on the forehead goodnight. As soon as Piers closed the door, Marnie was right back on her phone, letting herself slowly fall asleep to images of uniforms and fancy meals. 

  
  
  
  


Monday afternoon, Marnie stayed almost an hour after practice officially ended. Not out of the ordinary for the young star, though today she wasn’t sticking around for extra reps. 

“I checked with the Wyndon scouts. You won’t be the only superstar there, should things work out,” Coach said.

Marnie looked away from the Light Screen her Grimmsnarl held up. “Leon’s brother, right?”

“Yeah,” Coach looked at his phone, “‘n the other Postwick kid, Gloria.”

They’d both heard _that_ name before. Gloria Breckenridge competed in Division I, so Marnie never had the chance to battle her, but her powerful team and out-of-the-hat victories skyrocketed her to a national platform. 

“What’s she ranked now? Still first?”

“Second, but number one is headed to Hammerlocke.” Dragon’s Academy, no doubt. 

Wait, second place? “Who beat her?” 

Coach turned his phone around, revealing a smug-looking boy with puffy white hair. 

“Bede,” Marnie read aloud. It sounded vaguely familiar. “No last name?”

“Nope. Total mystery kid. Apparently he’s Chairman Rose’s protege, but he only just started competin’ this year. Psychic-type specialist.”

At least that meant Marnie would have the inherent advantage, should they ever battle. She turned her attention back to Grimmsnarl, who had only just broken its screen. Marnie stopped a timer. “Three minutes, seventeen seconds.” She pat Grimmsnarl on the back. “Great work!” 

“We’ll see what happens at the D-I tournament next week,” Coach interrupted. 

“Yes we shall.”

  
  


That night, Marnie curled up with Morpeko and found the D-I broadcast. Nothing like a good battle as an excuse to break out some sugary snacks. 

That Breckenridge was something else. What was it about Postwick that kept pumping out these phenoms? Something in the water? There had to be a social element, too -- Gloria shared Leon’s undeniable charisma and brilliant smile. 

Speaking of Leon, his little brother was nothing to sneeze at, either. He had big shoes to fill, but it didn’t seem to phase him much. At least, not in battle. In interviews he seemed jumpy, though in good spirits. 

The two battled hard in the semifinal match. 

They’d make good teammates. 

  
  


\-----------------------------

Marnie stared down the simple sheet of paper in front of her. It spelled things out plainly, in a nice numbered list. This letter states intent to participate in the Wyndon College Battling Program. The player will follow College guidelines while attending. The player will receive a scholarship that can be taken away if guidelines are not followed. The player must attend the institution to which this letter of intent is signed.

She had read it all before, actually. But now with a camera pointed at her, she felt that much more nervous. Another stellar photo for the paper no doubt: the hope of Spikemuth sitting at a table surrounded by balloons, her prep school banner taped on the front, a shiny new Wyndon cap by her side. Maybe she’d even smile again in this one. It would probably be national news, after all.

  
  
  


**3 of Top 20 Recruits Commit to Wyndon**

_Breckenridge (2), and Alexander (4), both of Postwick, sign to elite institution; Douglas (12) will be Spikemuth’s first admit in 54 years._

The number was wrong. It had been 55 years. At least, that’s what her school’s trophy case read. Maybe the plaque had a typo. Either way, the green ballcap looked nice on Marnie’s head, and that’s what really mattered in the moment. As she played around with the angle, she reread the headline. Something was off.

_Douglas (12)_

Twelfth?! She ranked seventh last week! What changed? The tournament was over for her, and D-I shouldn’t have affected her _that_ much at this point. Unless--

The scout. Marnie opened up the rankings. 

Bede, 165cm. Gloria, 157cm. 161. 157. 170. The numbers went on, all dwarfing Marnie’s newly-added statistics. 

So it really _did_ matter. Hopefully, this wouldn’t affect her scholarship too much. Why even care so much about how tall a fourteen-year-old was anyway? There was plenty of time to grow… she hoped. 

For now though, she was just too damn _small_. 

Piers told her why, once. He didn’t need to preface it with apologies about trying his best. She knew he did what he could. Who knew what their mother was up to that left them so hungry-- no matter. That was in the past, and she was gone now. But the consequences remained. 

It happened so often in Spikemuth. Single parent, bad habits, hungry kids. Kids grow up, no role models, marriages fall apart. End up single parents. The cycle repeats. Marnie felt too lucky to have Piers. But was it really so different? They were only lucky because Piers had talent, and gym leader salaries were more than enough to live well on. Otherwise, who knows what would have happened to them. 

Marnie’s eyes slid to the old postcard hung behind her desk. 

_“Spikemuth, the Toughest There Is”_ read the curly text. In the background, Spikemuth’s port. Hundreds of deckhands were visible, each one helping their ships brave the icy waters, dockworkers at the ready to unload cargo. Strong. Fearless. The slogan didn’t lie. 

Marnie dreamt of being like them. Piers said that spirit was in her, and still in all of Spikemuth, deep down. It sounded just crazy enough to be true.

\--------------------------------------

Wyndon was beautiful. Slowly, it appeared beyond the idyllic farmland, hillsides making way first for suburbs, then the city itself. Each time Marnie looked out the train window she swore she saw a different landmark. Mr. Wainwright was more than happy to point out each and every one. 

“You know Rose Tower, right?” the scout asked. “And over there is where the government meets.” 

Marnie only half-listened, to be honest. She was too busy daydreaming about how soon she would be walking down those streets. It would be nice if Piers was there too, but he’s seen all this so many times, and he had Gym Leader duties to take care of anyway. 

In town, people hurried to work, dressed in suits, a backdrop of beautiful apartments and towering skyscrapers. Huge buses passed every minute, and trains rumbled beneath the ground. Marnie resisted the temptation to cover her ears as she waited for a car to arrive.

Wyndon, population eight million. The beating heart of Galar. 

“Are you okay, Douglas?”

“I’m fine. Jus’ noisy is all.” 

The scout laughed. “You’ll get used to it, don’t worry.” 

Marnie finally relented to her instincts and threw her hands up to the sides of her head.

“The campus is a lot quieter.”

“That’s good.”

“...You want anything? Ice cream? Pastry?” 

“No, sir, I’m fine. Thank you.”

The car ride there was mostly silent, first in awkwardness, and then in awe. 

Every building was _huge_ and _gorgeous._ That-- that _couldn’t_ be a dormitory, right? It looked nicer than the cathedral back home, and the fields were so, _so_ green. Marnie didn’t belong here, there was no way--

“Let’s head to the athletic facility.”

State-of-the-art. The locker room wasn’t even lockers, it was more like huge cubbies you could sit in while putting on your uniform, or listening to coaches speak, or watching the TV in the middle of the room. The showers looked like they actually worked. The place was worth more than her house-- maybe her entire block.

Another girl sat in one of the lockers, talking to a different scout. A familiar face. _Very_ familiar.

“What a surprise! I didn’t know you’d be here too,” Gloria said, full of her ever-present confidence. She introduced herself, holding out her hand. 

Marnie accepted the invitation, giving her name in return.

“Oh, is that how you say it? Doo-gliss?” 

What? No, that was… her accent. Marnie did her best to correct herself, and Gloria laughed it off. How different did they really sound? It didn’t even cross Marnie’s mind. Another barrier between her and the others. Should she hide it? No-- that was impossible at this point. She’d done interviews. No point in changing.

“It’s how ya say it back home.”


End file.
